


A Hendrix Anniversary

by thebiwriter



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebiwriter/pseuds/thebiwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alison and Donnie catch a romantic get away for their ten year wedding anniversary at her family's cabin. Frustrated at Donnie's lack of spontaneity in bed, Alison decides to spice things up by bringing a bit of leather into the mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hendrix Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-writing of an old ficlet I wrote back in 2014. I added more details and action to flesh this out to help me deal with a mild case of writer's (writers' ?) block.

"Ali, let me in. It's cold outside!" Donnie calls through the cabin door. "We had plenty of firewood to begin with!" He sets down the cluster of wood he'd bought from the store by the door and knocks rapidly on the door. "I've been standing out here for 10 minutes!"

"You wouldn't be so cold if you had taken the time to chop the wood yourself and gotten your blood flowing," Alison replies, the sound of her voice very faint. "It's called exercise, and the better you work out the easier it is for us to you-know-what." 

"Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't get the memo!" He angrily shouts. "So, so sorry my inability to maintain an erection is solely my fault and not due to the fact my wife-" 

"Donnie Hendrix, do not speak to me in that tone! I am not above throwing all of your things out into the cold with you! I told you to leave for exactly 15 minutes, and you decide to ignore me, just like you did when I told you to pack your long johns!" 

"I didn't realize it took you so long to get in the mood." 

"Well that explains so much." She curtly states. 

Donnie sighs and leans his back against the door. "Alison, I'm sor-" 

"No, no it's fine, I guess you don't want to know why I packed an extra suitcase for myself and bought three Barry White cd's on the way here. Maybe I should just give up and accept that the romance in our marriage is dead after only ten short years." 

"It's not dead-" 

"Well then let me romance you." She insists. "Give this a try, please. If you don't like it, then I'll never do this again, I just feel like leaving the kids at my mother's and not trying new things with each other is a waste of an anniversary." 

Donnie sighs and sits on the front steps, the coldness from the concrete going through his jeans almost instantly. He tilts his head back and taps his fingers on the door rhythmically. "Fine. How long until you'll be ready?" 

"In a few seconds I'll unlock the door, but don't come in until you hear the music start, okay?" 

He listens intently and hears the steady click of heels approaching the door. The lock clicks open and the sound of Alison’s heels quickly retreat into the back of the cabin. After a minute or so, the sound of smooth jazz fills the cabin. 

Donnie rightens himself, and walks inside, leaving the firewood outside. All of the lights in the large cabin were dimmed. He looks over to the brown coach and at the mantle place across from it. He looks down and notices a trail of black petals leading from the living area through the hallway and to the bedroom and follows it.   
Donnie passes through the hallway and reaches the bedroom. He opens the door to find his wife sitting on the bed and his eyes widen.

Sitting on the bed was his wife, Alison Hendrix, clad in a black leather catsuit and holding a matching whip. She wore bright red lipstick and her hair, as always, was pulled into a tight pony tail. Looking behind her at the bed, he noticed lots of other little trinkets. Most noticeable were a pair of handcuffs and what appeared to be a red ball attached to two leather straps. 

"Hello, Donnie." Alison said, awkwardly standing in a pair of black stiletto boots. She shakily struts over to him, her movements jerky and awkward. "What do you think?" 

“Holy shit, Alison!” Donnie shouts, turning around and putting a hand over his eyes “What the hell is that thing?” 

“Watch your mouth, Donnie, this is a family cabin and I will not allow you to ruin my memories here with your swearing.” Alison scolds. “For your information, this is a leather body suit, you act like you’ve never seen one before.” 

“That’s because I haven’t!” Donnie cries out incredulously, refusing to turn around and face her. “Why are you wearing a bodysuit _made of leather?_ Where did you even get one, better yet, _why_ did you get one?"

"It's from Amazon." Alison crosses her arms and plops down onto the bed. "I've been reading a few books on how to spice things up in the bedroom. I wasn't set on this specifically until Chad and Aynsley talked about it at the potluck a few weeks back."

"They were joking!" Donnie shouted. "They don't play mistress of pain!" 

"I know they were joking but that doesn't mean they haven't done this same thing before!" 

"Oh my god, Alison, do you mean to tell me that-" 

"Yes, okay! Aynsley and Chad have tried this before, it's not that odd! It worked fairly well for them so I figured we could at least give it a shot." 

Donnie turns around and laughs condescendingly. “Give a round of ‘Mistress Of Pain’ a go? Seriously, Ali? Is this some kind of joke?”

"Why the dickens would this be a joke?” Alison asks haughty as she stands and approaches him. "Jokes don't cost $125 plus shipping, Donnie, this cost me money and time. Some people wear these things all the time when they get intimate, so explain to me why wouldn’t I do something like this?"

Donnie gulps, knowing he’s damned if he answers and damned if he doesn’t.

"Um, why am I the submissive?" He asks, desperately trying to change the subject. 

"Because you don't know how to be dominant, Donnie, now answer the darn question."

Donnie squirms uncomfortably at her closeness. The heels on her boots gave her at least six more inches in height, allowing her to be slightly above face level with him.     
"Why would this be a joke, Donnie?" She asks once more, her voice rising. 

“Be-because you’re so vanilla. You’re like vanilla cake without the icing.” He looks down at his feet, feeling the weight of Alison's stare. 

“Vanilla cake without the icing.” Alison slowly repeats. “And how so, Donald Timothy Hendrix?”

 “I- just forget about it, okay?” Donnie says, rushing to the bed and grabbing his pillow and a blanket off. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” He rushes out of the room, dodging Alison on the way out. 

“You bet your dangly balls you’ll be sleeping on the couch! We are not done with this conversation, mister!” Alison calls after him, slamming the bedroom door. She paces the room, scratching at the collar of the suit. How did she even get into this thing by herself in the first place? Tugging at the zipper fruitlessly, her stomach drops. More importantly, how in the sam hell does she get out?


End file.
